Sometimes it only takes one
by Tetrion
Summary: Sometimes it only takes one mistake to start you on the path to darkness. Come see how one incompetent boys mistake lead him to become one of the greatest con men in wizard history.


This is an idea that I've had bubbling in my head for quite a while. How exactly does an incompetent wizard become one of the best con men in wizard history? Well this is what I think happened…

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Sometimes all it takes is one 

Prologue:

Gilderoy Lockhart couldn't say that he hated St. Mungos, after all, it was the only place he knew, he didn't count his brief encounter with the tunnel or the castle. Not that it really mattered where he was; nobody ever came to visit him. Sometimes he wondered what kind of person he had been, most days he just didn't care. The nurses were sympathetic; but not kind they were much too busy for such frivolities. Besides, it was obvious that they had given up on him. Sure, they would come in and throw things at him, like his wand or his books none of which caused total recall. However they did cause confusion, he tried to tell them how these things made him feel. How when he held his books, he had the desire to burst out laughing yet at the same time vomit. How his wand elicited nothing but waves of disgust, how when he was alone at night he felt like he had somehow failed. Of course, there was nobody there so it became obvious to him, that his feelings did not matter either.

However this night was different, he could feel it as he wandered the corridors, a habit the nurses had finally allowed to flourish. This night was important; leaning against a barred window Gilderoy let the sounds of silence wash over him, knowing that they were somehow important.

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Chapter One:

A twenty one year old Lockhart stood in front of his family manor, tears glistening in his eyes. They would never fall, not with so many people watching. It had been an accident; a fluke that his parents had managed to die just after their only son finished his apprenticeship. There had been no foul play; he had been assured of that. They had been old, waiting for money, before indulging in their dream of having a child. At the ripe young age of, fifty-two they had Gilderoy. Then they spent many years growing old and organizing their affairs. Finally, they had ended their lives together just a week before, lying down for a nap and never awakening.

Squaring his shoulders, their son, always such a disappointment, swore to make them proud. "No matter what it takes", he whispered hands balled into fists. He had no illusions about his journey being easy; no, it would be a trial but in the end, it would all be worth it, if only one person remembered his name.

Ever since he had been young, Gilderoy had been aware that he wasn't particularly gifted. He wasn't strong-he blamed that on his girlish name-, or gifted with magic-which he blamed on his parents being so old when they had him-, or even handsome-he hadn't found something to blame that on; but he would one day-. He did have two things on his side though determination, and a particular aptitude for memory charms. Ignoring the throng of neighbors behind them, most of whom were taking bets on how long it would take him to squander the family fortune, he entered the grounds.

Everything was as he remembered it, drab well ordered, nothing jumped out to greet him, he smirked yeah he was home all right. Wandering inside he was greeted by an array of mirrors; which never failed to slow his progress. Looking to his left, he examined himself, clothes not attention grabbing and dark, hair a dull blonde, in fact the only thing on him that sparkled were his eyes, which were a magnificent shade of blue. Throwing his cloak to the floor he moved on to the family room, where his parents portraits hung over the fireplace. He stood staring at them, waiting for some kind of well emotion; but none came. He only wished that he could have told them, that he was now a bounty hunter. He grinned at the though, he still didn't know how he had passed the test; but it had happened. "It must be fate", he murmured, pouring himself a shot of firewhiskey. Hopefully he would get a case soon, he had sent out his resume to every small wizard village, he knew of. Sure, he had embellished his story a little, he had never slain a dragon; but it sure sounded good. It was bound to get him hired; besides there weren't any stray dragons out there…hopefully. He swallowed hard as the liquor burned his throat, he held it askance he didn't feel any different, wasn't he suppose to. He shrugged, and moved on to his room upstairs. It was exactly the same, not a thing changed since his first year at Hogwarts. A fond smile tugged at his lips, as memories assaulted him, he had never had many friends, so it had just been him, his room, and his stories.

For the most part, he had dreamed of adventure, not of the conventional traveling roughing it fantasy. No roughing it for him was passing a class like potions, he shuddered at how many cauldrons he had destroyed. He had dreamed of the return journey, of riding triumphantly into a town, people screaming his name; and of course, his heroes' smile that was most important for it showed confidence and charm. Which in Gilderoy's opinion were more important than the ability to sword fight or laugh in the face of danger. In fact, he had spent hours practicing the smile, moving to his mirror he knelt down, stretching his mouth he grinned cocking his head slightly to one side. He shook his head, it never came off quite right, his teeth weren't bright enough his hair lacking in luster. He shrugged he'd get it right one day. Downing his drink he began tugging off his boots and promptly collapsed on his bed. Falling into a deep sleep where he dreamed that he had gained fame and recognition but lost himself.

A.N

Next Chapter Gilderoy gets his first assignment

Sorry this was so short; but that last sentence seemed the perfect place to stop. Please review I love the feedback. ) Till sometime soon.


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